Saving Grace
by StarKatt427
Summary: On the night of Trisha's funeral, Edward will come to know what saving grace is; or rather, who it is. - Original anime series based.


**Disclaimer: I don't own the world of FullMetal Alchemist: ******Hiromu Arakawa is the rightful creator of this amazing universe and the beautiful characters that inhabit it.** **

**A/N: First brotherly! Edward/Alphonse story I've done with them as kids! I got this idea at the beginning of June 2011, I believe, and I'm happy with it; very happy. Anyway, this story is original anime based, which makes Edward 10 and Alphonse 9 when Trisha dies. Why did I choose the first series? Honestly, I'm not sure; maybe because we didn't get to see any of the funeral in Brotherhood, so I had more I could work with here.**

**I see Alphonse as being Edward's saving grace: he is what keeps him moving and living, striving to do better. Alphonse balances him out and is his better half, and I find myself amazed by how far their love for each other goes; it's limitless. They give everything for each other, and that's the most powerful thing about FMA to me. That's the reason I think I fell in love with it.**

_*****Re-updated as of 11/1/13*****_

**StarKatt427**

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><p>The only word Edward could use to describe how he felt was numb; without any real sensation, his thoughts caught between reality and the memory of the past. Still in the suit he'd worn to the funeral, he sat silently on the couch in the Rockbells' den, dimly aware of Pinako and her granddaughter cooking in the next room over.<p>

There were only two things that he was really conscious of: his little brother sitting beside him and the plan his weary mind had already begun forming to bring their mother back to life.

The night before—the night Trisha died—was mostly a blur to Edward, and yet every detail was vividly clear; things were fuzzy and vague and like a dream, colors muted, but he could recall the exact sound the wind made as it rattled the windows, the warmth of his mother's fingers as they went limp in his. After Trisha's hand had gone slack, everything had just slammed to an abrupt standstill, the universe mocking his childish optimism, because he'd been _so sure _that she would wake up one morning, still weak but recovering, and she would look at him and not see the man that had left her. As he had stared down at her peaceful, lifeless face, it had taken him a moment to realize Alphonse was lightly shaking her, his voice filling with disbelief and fear and tears as he called for her to wake up, until Edward had finally recovered himself enough to take his brother's hands and pull him away, throw an arm around his neck, hand holding his head. He hadn't said a word, not even when Alphonse had pressed his face into his shoulder and started crying, the firm hold he had on his little brother speaking the truth he couldn't make himself voice: _she's gone._

Edward didn't remember falling asleep that night, only that he'd eventually climbed into Alphonse's and tried to comfort him while simultaneously begging for some sort of solace, but he'd woken pale and exhausted, beginning a day that was lit by sunlight but blanketed by a shadow black as mourning.

He knew, even without glancing over, that Alphonse was still struggling to keep his tears at bay. The younger boy had barely cried the night before, only when Edward had pulled him from their mother's lifeless body and late into the early morning hours, too deep in shock for his grief to take physical form. Once the funeral began, though, and she was lowered into the ground to be buried, he'd lost it, sliding down beside Edward and quietly sobbing during most of the service, knees drawn to his chest and face buried in his crossed arms.

By the time it was just the two brothers left at their mother's grave, Alphonse, still sniffling, had finally spoken, voice thick with the tears he unashamedly cried. _"Brother, I'm hungry. And I'm cold too. How are we gonna do this. H-how are we gonna live without her?"_

And Edward could still hear his own voice, so steady and determined, as he'd answered him. "_We're not, Al. We're going to bring her back."_

Edward was resolute; they _wouldn't _be without her, they _wouldn't _be alone, because they _would _find a way to return her to their side. They would bring Trisha back to life, or he would die trying.

However, as they'd made their way to the Rockbells' in silence, Edward had begun to despair a little, the agony he'd been fighting with for the past twenty-four hours threatening to pull him under. He was confident in their alchemic abilities; there definitely had to be a way to bring her back, he just hadn't found it yet.

And that terrified him.

At his side, Alphonse let out a shaky breath, more of a sigh, that immediately caught Edward's attention and had him peeking at his brother. His cheeks were rubbed raw from constantly wiping tears away with his coat sleeve, face wan and eyes swollen, bloodshot, posture slumped beneath heartache and looking so utterly breakable that it physically hurt Edward to see him in such a state. Eyes glistening with a reflective film of tears that were on the verge of spilling, his bottom lip was caught under his top in a manner the older boy was familiar with, an oddly pitiful image that always meant he was trying to keep himself from crying.

The sight of his little brother, desolate and forlorn, finally called Edward from his own inner turmoil and back to the present, away from his musings and reminiscence, and his hand raised unconsciously to land on Alphonse's head, gently tousling his hair in a gesture of comfort.

Alphonse's shoulders stiffened for a moment at the contact, and then he leaned into the warmth the hand offered, shoulders giving a single shudder as his head fell forward, bangs partly obscuring his eyes.

Edward sighed, staring back down at the floor.

How in the world was he going to take care of Alphonse while their mother was still dead?

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><p>The boys were called to the table for dinner, and though Edward couldn't even think about eating (no doubt needing something in his empty stomach but emotions raging too wildly for him to feel any hunger, belly twisted into knots), he wasn't going to let Alphonse miss a meal. The food wasn't much, just vegetable soup and wheat bread, and he only at a few bites for Pinako's sake; mostly, he spooned the broth in absent circles, only eating some when she gently reminded him he needed to keep his strength up.<p>

His brother didn't fare much better, getting a little more down than Edward before placing his utensil aside and turning to sipping water out of his glass. Edward sighed through his nose softly, knowing Alphonse, like him, probably couldn't eat anything else without getting nauseous, even though he'd complained of being hungry just a little more than an hour earlier.

During the entire meal, Pinako and Winry remained unusually quiet, watching them with woeful, sympathetic eyes while trying to appear like they weren't. Edward didn't blame them; they were afraid he and Alphonse would be lost to despair—especially him, since he hadn't even cried once that day, or even the night before. What he hadn't told anyone was that he wanted to, had felt his throat and nose throb with tears that never came, but found he wasn't quite able to summon them. Not yet, anyway. Not when there was hope of bringing _her _back to life.

Once the Rockbells set aside their bowls, barely getting anything down themselves, and they all stood near the front door, Pinako asked them, "Do you boys want to stay here tonight?"

Hearing the old bat, who was usually so commanding and gruff, speak with such tenderness was not a common occurrence, but Edward wasn't very surprised: she cared for them like they were her own grandchildren, he knew, even though she rarely showed it.

Still…

He looked to Alphonse for his response, taking in the hooded gray eyes, the imploring tilt to his mouth clearly expressing his longing to be home, even if it _was _where Trisha had died; he still felt safe there, and like Edward, wanted to remain solely in the company of one another.

Edward gave him a miniscule nod, then turned back and shook his head at the old woman in a damaged, beaten way, lips turning up in what could be considered a feeble attempt at a smile. He didn't say anything; he didn't need to.

Pinako nodded, face dropping just slightly.

Winry, who had thus far not said anything, came up beside her grandmother and gave them a small smile that did not reach her glazed eyes, blonde hair pulled back neatly from her ashen face. She reached out and clasped one of their hands in hers, giving both a soft squeeze before letting go, not allowing either time to try and slap on a smile, to which Edward was immensely grateful.

Their farewells made, Edward reached out to grab the doorknob, but his hand went still when Pinako asked, "Do you want me to walk with you?"

Without looking over his shoulder, he once again shook his head, and behind him, she sighed. "Alright."

On that note, the brothers left, closing the door softly behind them.

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><p>A melancholic gloom greeted Edward when he opened the door to their house, one so palpable and ubiquitous he wondered if it would ever truly fade away. Once Alphonse was inside and the door shut, he looked at his brother, a tired, shaky sigh expelling from his chest, and reached over to latch onto his brother's coat sleeve, pulling it lightly. "C'mon."<p>

Alphonse obediently followed after him, but Edward's hold on his sleeve remained.

Once they were about halfway down the hall, though, the younger boy stopped, pulling him to a halt as well. Edward knew why instantly, not even needing to see the film that had settled over Alphonse's, hear the painful little gasp of air that ripped from his lungs, to understand, and he looked to the left at the closed door, ominous and intimidating, the one that led into their mother's room; the room where she had died, the room where they had spent the last several weeks watching her waste away. Alphonse stared at the door, through it, eyes wide and lips trembling as he saw into the previous night, reliving their mother's final moments as she finally succumbed to the disease.

The deep chasm in Edward's heart throbbed afresh, along with the urge to finally just sit down and bawl, but he somehow kept himself in check, even as he felt the lump rising to seize his throat, making him blink his eyes furiously. He released the edge of his brother's coat and took hold of his trembling hand, gently drawing him away.

Fingers lacing though his: _Brother…_

A gentle pressure: _I know._

After wordlessly brushing their teeth, Edward led Alphonse to their bedroom, his eyes burning with tiredness more than the threat of tears at the moment, fatigued physically from trying to keep up a strong appearance and emotionally due to the loss of one of the few constants in his life. All he wanted to do was close his eyes and let this nightmare come to an end; once he was asleep, it would be over, right? The next morning would be like any other: he would wake up to Alphonse jumping on him, his little brother's eyes sunlit and not heavy laden with sorrow, the smell of breakfast cooking enough to shake the last remaining bit of sleep from his mind. When morning came, everything would be alright again.

A strangled laugh nearly made its way out of his mouth at the foolish desire for normalcy. He knew there was no waking up from this hell, not until they brought their mother back to life; until that moment, all he could do was dream.

Silently, Edward pulled his coat off and began working with his tie, and it was when he was in the middle of unbuttoning his shirt that he realized Alphonse couldn't undo his tie by himself. If it had been under different circumstances, Edward would have smiled, maybe poked fun at him, but he felt something hot swell up in his chest instead, affection more intense than he remembered it ever being. As Alphonse continued to struggle with the necktie, he walked to him and pushed his little brother's hands aside to deftly undo the knot, and though Alphonse didn't say anything or give any acknowledgement of thanks, Edward could see the gratitude in his eyes.

With nothing left for them to occupy themselves with, both were soon in their pajamas, and from the way Alphonse was watching him, eyebrows furrowed and teeth grazing at his lip, Edward knew his brother wasn't too keen on going to bed; if they laid down, there wouldn't be anything to keep their thoughts away from the fact that there was no calming presence down the hall, the last tie they had to her being the sweet, floral scent of her pillow, the same as her hair. Alphonse didn't do as well at hiding his fatigue, though, features reflecting the weariness Edward imagined was branded on his heart, and he knew they needed to at least make an effort to rest.

Smiling weakly, Edward lifted a hand to scruffle his brother's light brown hair before turning to his bed. "Try to get some sleep, okay, Al?"

A hand, small and warm, latched onto his and pulled him to a complete stop, and Edward turned back to face Alphonse, his brother looking timidly from their hands up to his face, eyes nervous and beseeching and still filled with tears. His fingers trembled slightly. "Can I…can I sleep with you again tonight, Brother?" he asked softly, brokenly, voice horribly pitiful and lost.

Edward's lungs grew congested, the remains of his shattered heart dissolving at the sight of his baby brother pleading with him, terrified to be alone and craving the warmth of another's arms as he had the night before; that was the only clear memory Edward had from the hours following their mother's death: crawling into Alphonse's bed when his brother had started crying, the hollowness inside him receding long enough for him to wrap his arms around the younger boy and soothe him back into some form of sleep, brushing a hand up his back when he started whimpering.

Now, his eyes blurred with the tears he'd been battling for the last hour or so, and he tried not to let the wetness spill over as he gripped Alphonse's hand tightly, their palms touching warm against one another. "Yeah."

Still holding hands, Edward guided him over to his bed, somehow managing to maintain the hold even as they both climbed beneath the blankets, even as he pulled the covers up to their chests with his free hand and tucked them around Alphonse the way their mom had until recently. He pushed his back against the wall and turned onto his side so that he was somewhat cradling his brother against him, watching as he curled closer, Alphonse's head resting on his arm.

Neither said anything, their breathing the only sound in the darkness, Alphonse simply staring at the hand he held to his chest and Edward watching him, waiting.

"I'm scared," Alphonse admitted finally, still not looking at him.

"I know. I am, too."

A hand reached to take hold of his shirt, fingers catching at the material, and Alphonse sighed shakily before meeting his eyes. "S-he's really gone, isn't she?"

Edward couldn't seem to exhale properly, lungs expanding painfully so that it felt as if he was choking, and his hand came to rest on his brother's head, fingers digging into his hair. "Yeah."

And just like that, the floodgates broke once again.

A miserable wail tore from Alphonse's chest, hot tears flowing down his silver eyes and body shaking violently as he buried his face in his brother's shirt, tears soaking through the fabric and hands clutching at him desperately.

And then Edward was crying, the lump in his throat finally breaking through his lips and entering the world as a heartbreakingly fragile sob, stinging salt water finally winning to spill down his face, and he pulled Alphonse close, holding him with both arms in a ferocious hug. It was excruciating, the pain that was eating at his chest, like erosion, decay, the greater part of his heart racked by a devastation that he was afraid would never heal, threatening to steal his breath and causing him to cry nearly as violently as his little brother. Sob after breathtaking sob ruptured from his lips, eyes inflamed by tears that flowed down into his mouth as he buried his face in Alphonse's hair, unable to tell if it was his own body shuddering or his brother's. Alphonse let out another keening moan, then somehow twined his arms under Edward's and held onto his back, pulling himself up to shove his face into the older boy's neck, tears pooling against the hollow there. Edward's hands locked around his waist, and no matter how vehemently he tried to stop the gush of tears, more bubbled up from his throat to saturate the brown hair he pressed his face deeper into, just as his brother's soaked into his skin.

Even with Alphonse's voice muffled in Edward's shoulder, he was able to hear the brokenhearted wail that ripped from him, crying out for their mother and hiccupping harshly, gasping for breath.

And Edward cried even harder, trying his damndest not to sob out for their mother as well. He was supposed to be strong for Alphonse's sake, yet he couldn't top the tears from leaking out of his eyes, even as he clamped them shut, and all he could do was hold tighter to his brother, wanting nothing more than to have his mother embracing them in her arms once again.

She was really dead; it was an undeniable truth that Edward was accepting for the first time since she'd taken her last breath, no bravado left for him to back his claim of returning her to their side. She was his biggest fan, the one who loved to see what he could create with alchemy; the one who would always sing him and Alphonse to sleep and run her fingers through their hair, who would make up stories for them and squeeze them tightly as she put them to bed; the one who gave Edward kisses whenever he did something good, when he made her proud, when he was a good brother to Alphonse; she was the one who always told him just how much she loved him, who would rock him to sleep when he had a nightmare and wouldn't say a word about it the next morning because he didn't want his brother to know, the one who wouldn't force him to drink milk, the one who gave him special smiles and always had time to play; the one who called him her little man.

She was his everything.

And she was gone.

Edward bit his lip with enough force to draw blood, vision obscured and body overwhelmed by sobs, the same as his brother but somehow different; he couldn't imagine how deeply Alphonse must have been lamenting her, crying out like that, but it was the most pitiful thing Edward had ever witnessed: a nonstop flow of wetness wending down his cheeks, little hands fisted in Edward's shirt and body shuddering with each labored gasp. He coughed, breath hitching, then clearly attempted to swallow down the sobs still building inside him as he sucked his bottom lip under his top, and Edward realized through a haze of tears that he was trying to stop crying.

And for some reason, the thought of Alphonse having to pretend to be alright made Edward cry even harder, because if Alphonse was strong, who would need him? He pulled back slightly, intending to press his mouth close to his brother's ear and whisper assurances, remind him that they would bring her back, but he stopped when the arms holding him turned frantic, hands digging into his back.

Edward looked down to see his brother watching him with large, panicked eyes, a steady stream of tears falling gracefully from his silver irises as he looked into the older boy's golden ones. "Please, please don't leave m-me too, Brother…p-please," he begged, a whine breaking into his voice.

Something that was more of a sob and less of a laugh fell from Edward's lips, and he pulled Alphonse back to him, his forehead resting against his little brother's as he nuzzled against him in an aberrant show of affection, tangling their legs together beneath the blankets. "Never. I won't ever leave you. I promise."

"But M-mom did," Alphonse sobbed out, trying to catch his breath, and even as Edward felt more tears fall from his eyes with the agony of missing his mother, he knew he needed to focus on his brother's pain for now. Alphonse was barely able to get in another breath before he hiccoughed again, then was lost to gagging on tears and saliva, and Edward quickly began stroking the hair back from his face, clumsy and heartfelt, hoping to end his crying before he strangled.

"Shh, shh, it's okay. Mom's n-not gone for good, I told you that earlier. We're gonna bring her back, and we'll be happy again." He rubbed a hand over Alphonse's damp cheek, then brushed his bangs away from his eyes and pressed their foreheads together, breath wafting out over the younger boy's face. "It's gonna be okay, so please don't cry. Please, Al."

Edward watched as he tried to reign in the relentless tears, tried to shove them back behind his temples, his little brother clenching his teeth together and eyes quivering with effort as he forced himself to not get lost once again. The whole time, Edward's fingers traced over his face, around his eyes and along his neck, before he simply placed his hand flat against the softness of his little brother's face.

For a moment, he thought Alphonse had managed to lock the tears away, but then the little boy's face suddenly crumbled again, and he cried out achingly. Edward sighed, a broken, helplessly exhausted sound, and rubbed a hand up and down the taller boy's back before wrapping both arms around his baby, rocking him through the tears.

Because Alphonse _was _his baby, especially now that there was no one else for him to belong to. When it came down to it, there was just Edward's fierce devotion and pure love for him imprinted into every part of who he was, so deeply entwined into his heart and soul that nothing could rip it away from him. Alphonse was his world, his saving grace, the one person who always knew what he was thinking and how he felt, the one that would stick with him through thick and thin and would stay by his side no matter what. It was his duty as the elder brother to be the strong one, to protect him, and he was proud of that responsibility.

It killed him, knowing his brother was so vulnerable, plagued with a pain no amount of console could mend, and not being able to do anything, feeling a helplessness he knew only from the long weeks of their mother's illness. They needed her, but while she wasn't there, it was his job to take care of Alphonse; he had to put aside his own misery and become the strength his little brother required.

Arms, if possible, constricting in their hold, Edward murmured quietly, "You don't have to cry anymore, so please stop, okay? Please? Please don't cry. Please, I…" His words abruptly cut off, tears clogging his throat, and he swallowed thickly, unable to get anything past the heated swell of emotion threatening to suffocate him. So instead of trying to speak what he knew Alphonse desperately wanted and needed to hear, he planted a light kiss to his forehead like their mother had done not so long ago, the surest way to tell someone that you loved them, his lips salty against the smooth skin beneath them.

At the feather light touch, Alphonse sniffled, then looked straight back at him, a hand freeing from its hold on his brother's back to wipe tiredly over his eyes, and Edward felt a small smile spread tug his mouth at the childish gesture; Alphonse wasn't growing up after all, still scrubbing at his face like he did when sleepy. "We'll bring her back with alchemy, and everything will be okay. You'll see," he guaranteed softly.

"And…and you w-won't leave me?" Alphonse questioned.

Edward, whose tears had finally begun to slow, felt several more roll down his cheeks as he nodded. "No. I won't ever leave you. I'll take care of you. Promise."

Alphonse gave a small nod, gracing Edward with a weak, cheerless smile before swiping at his eyes once more, then pulled himself back close to the older boy's chest, head at the base of his neck and nose buried in the soft skin found there, one arm remaining around his back while the other reached for his hand. Edward complied, twisting their still chubby fingers together as he pulled him closer, chin resting on Alphonse's head.

"Love you, Al," Edward he, planting one more kiss to his hair and finally voicing the words he hadn't been able to earlier, fragile and honest and pure and whole-hearted.

And although he felt Alphonse's body still shaking with tears, he was rewarded with a soft, sincere, "I love you too, Brother."

Edward wasn't healed; he was far from being completely repaired, and he wouldn't truly feel whole again until he could see his mother smiling again, feel her arms around him and hear her voice say his name. Still, a strange emotion that was surely not contentment but also wasn't anguish settled over him, and when he looked down at the little boy in his arms, he knew this feeling was because of him, because Edward loved him so much.

So, for now, maybe being only partly healed was tolerable, as long as he had Alphonse.

It didn't take long for the Elric brothers to fall into a dreamless sleep, limbs entwined and clinging, pressed so tightly together that it seemed as if their hearts were trying to join with one another's.

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><p>The next morning, Edward was almost completely back to his old self, except that instead of going off on another adventure through the hills of Resembool, he was ready to journey the bookshelves of his father's study in search of any information on Human Transmutation.<p>

Because he would bring their mother back.

And he would protect Alphonse, no matter what.

Those were the two promises Edward Elric made at age ten.


End file.
